Control
by Kyuuketsuki Fang
Summary: ONE-SHOT "As I breathe my first breaths of life, my colorless world is painted in reds over reds...and my mouth waters." The black Taboo Noise struggle for control, only to lose the very little they already have. Birthday fic for Nicole Vermillion.


**Disclaimer: TWEWY does not belong to Kyuuketsuki Fang.**

Excruciating, mind numbing pain. Biting, inhuman torture. Every movement sends needles through my limbs. My mind whirls and my world spins. I cannot control my body, and when I see my reflection in the glassy store windows, I am not entirely sure that it is even mine.

I do not remember crystalline claws. These feral eyes, this tainted gray pelt, the thirst for power and control that overrides every other feeling: this isn't mine.

Is it?

Can I not be me?

I see the others, but they do not appear to have my confusion; they do not harbor the same fear and frustration that I hide. They are not troubled by nightmares during the day, bouts of unpredictable rage, thoughts of death...not my own death.

My eyes see only black and white and the shades in between. Nothing is alive.

But then He appears from the nothingness.

He promises the sky and the moon, an end to the suffering, release from everything...I would never have to listen to the demands of my creators, the Reapers, again. I could exact vengeance.

I say yes.

Just like He knew I would.

Oh, and the power, the energy, the passion that pulses under my skin as my fur wilts away and fades into sleek black night. I am stronger than ever, in control of my thoughts. I am released from the chains that bound me to the Reapers.

This must be life, I think, I must finally be living. And as I begin to believe my words, color seeps into my vision.

No, not color. As I breathe my first breaths of life, my colorless world is painted in reds over reds...and my mouth waters.

Everything moves.

This life is so captivating. It isn't fair how I have just now started to experience _life,_ and these people, these humans, have known it for so long. My fangs elongate, and without knowing it, I want to reach out and take life for myself.

He says that I can; I'm free.

I do.

No one can imagine the thrill of killing. Erasing, He calls it. With every clawful of flesh that I rip away, I feel the same terror flow throughout me. I can cause this pain. I can make them squirm with fear. I create death.

I CONTROL LIFE.

And I live for that...

I don't see Him much anymore. He leaves me alone in my territory, where even others of my kind avoid. They all know I'm here, but sometimes, a new soul wanders too close. On those days, I feast.

I survive on their hurts, their broken dreams, and the lingering image of their last expression.

It is always loss.

But the girl today tells me that she has nothing to lose. Her eyes are not sorrowful when she talks.

They are always sorrowful. They fight back to keep their futures, struggling until the last breath of life drains into me.

She throws down her pin and holds her unarmed hands in front of her.

They always scream when I stalk towards them, squirm when my sharpest teeth sink into their throats, and whimper as they start to fade away.

Her voice is soft and biting, understanding yet mocking this violent life that I was born into.

Does she know that I wasn't always this monster?

I live to Erase. I was born to Erase. I will Erase.

Everyone. Humans. Players. Noise. Reapers.

This girl.

HIM.

No, He's a good guy. He's the Escape, the Release.

He's a Reaper!

The girl says that she is dead, and that she has no regrets in the living world. If she returns or if she is Erased, the girl wants to smile at her fate.

They all yearn to live! And endless struggle for the life, _my_ life.

The girl. Her face softens in...what?

In pity.

I pity them. Young souls who died at my claws.

Blind rage. I am angry because she pities me. She doesn't pity me. I pity her.

I AM DEATH.

SHE WILL SUBMIT TO DEATH.

Her fragile arms reach out to embrace my Death. Her acceptance (SHE ACCEPTS NOTHING) clouds my mind. What is this...conscience?

I long to feel her neck snap beneath my jaw.

I want her to know (SHE IS THE ENEMY) that this is not who I am, but who I have become.

My lunge is accompanied by hesitation. (RUN RUN RUN) She stays, rigid, like a frozen statue.

She knows that she's doomed to fall, to fade like all the others. Her warm blood splashed over my maw, filling me with a burse of unexplainable pleasure.

But a Pyrokinesis pin blasts me sideways before I even get close to her. My body crumples to the ground, shaking.

She is alone, and that is her downfall.

I KILLED HER. I ERASED HER.

Her partner emerges from the shadows, eyes blazing with prejudice.

You don't know me, boy, you don't know how this feels.

THE GIRL IS ERASED.

I no longer see her face, because her partner helps her up and tells her that I will die.

THE GIRL IS ERASED. THE GIRL IS ERASED.

She gets up and walks away without a backward glance.

THE GIRL IS ERASED. THE GIRL IS ERASED. THE GIRL IS ERASED.

Her partner turns toward me, grim, unforgiving.

THE GIRL IS ERASED THE GIRL IS ERASED THE GIRL IS ERASED.

The Pyrokinesis pin rises again, the sunlight reflecting off of its shiny surface.

THE GIRL IS ERASED THE GIRL IS ERASED THE GIRL IS ERASED.

She is alive. She escaped my Death. I have no control.

THE GIRL IS ERASED THE GIRL IS ERASED THE GIRL LIVES THE GIRL LIVES THE GIRL LIVES.

I have total control. I control Death. I am Life. I am Death. I am in control.

GIRLERASED GIRLLIVES GIRLERASED GIRLLIVES GIRLERASED GIRLLIVES.

Flames spiral towards me. He is Erased. Something is Erased.

ERASEDERASEDERASEDERASED.

LIVES.

I close my eyes.

ERASED.

I am in control.

LIVES.

I control Death.

...

ERASED.

**A/N: This is a birthday fic for Nicole Vermillion. Love ya, Nic~**

**Writing this really gave me a headache, so I can imagine how most of you readers may feel. Mass confusion, really hard to understand, yes, I know. Feel free to complain. If you need an explanation, you can also contact me.**

**Also, this is in no way canon. I have no idea how Taboo Noise are created or how they think or feel. This is purely imagination (on a sugar high).**


End file.
